The Hardest Part
by The Leaf 180
Summary: Pony drowns in the fountain. Johnny is helpless, and now Pony is dead and gone and its his fault because he stood by and did nothing. Its up to him to pick up the peices and break the news to Pony's brothers. Its the least he could do. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

"Give the kid a bath, David."

Pony tried to duck as the massive figure advanced. He felt firm hands grip his arm, twisting it the wrong way with an almost inaudible _Snap! _Pony's eyes widened and he is met with a splash of frosty water.

A steady hand grasped his neck, sending chills careening down his spine, but it was the least of his worries at the moment. He struggled, screaming into the water for release, twisting his body every which way, but it was futile. The hand on his neck clenched, causing Ponyboy to cease his writhing.

He tried to hold his breathe, but it was already spent. He let out what was left in a rush, feeling the bubbles sliding up his pale face. He choked on the icy fountain water, feeling it clog his throat, he gagged, trying one last time for escape.

Water flooded down his throat and filled his lungs. His eyes dimmed as he felt his lungs constrict with need for oxygen and his vision blurred and suddenly everything was so far away… He blinked groggily, trying to remain conscious, but death had won. Ponyboy surrendered, slumping against the Soc's sturdy hold.

_Johnny_ he thought, _I hope Johnny makes it out…._

Everything is fading, but pony doesn't care. He begs for sweet release, and his wish is granted. Blue lips form words, but they are met by deaf ears.

_Goodbye…_

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><p>Johnny watched in horror, helpless as the Soc grabbed pony and proceeded in trying to drown him. Johnny felt himself move, but soon he too is caught, held captive by a pair of strong arms that encase him and hold him like a prison.<p>

He watches Pony's body spasm and is powerless to do anything about it. Ponyboy's body soon grows limp and the youngest member of the gang is released. The air is suffocating, a winding tension, so thick that Johnny could taste it.

The Soc's are frozen, but then, one snickers, a breathless, hiccup typed snicker, but the meaning was the same. And Johnny can't believe his ears, he wants to say something, do something. He wants to fight and kick and run and scream and cry and cry and cry…

But somewhere in his heart, a place where anger should live, where it should rage passionately into his eyes, it is gone. It was never there to begin with, he thinks. He feels himself falling and the ground catches him.

He watches with numb eyes as the Socs scatter, the growl of their engines drowned out by the roaring of blood in his ears. Johnny is alone, and feeling like the only being for miles. He glares at Ponyboys still form, wishing him back to live, waiting for him to sit up and wearily ask Johnny is he was alright.

The loud silence is choking him, and it feels like the longer he stays there the more smothering it becomes. He staggers to his feet on weak legs, his eyes trained on Pony, He staggers to his feet on weak legs, his eyes trained on the boy.

Maybe all he needed was a little shake and he would bounce back to life. Johnny stumbles and catches himself on the gleaming fountain, untouched by the night. He sees himself in the reflection of the pearly stone, his ghostly white face, his dilated pupils, and the fog of cold night air as he breaths on the stone.

This is the hardest part.

With shaky hands he reaches over. He hesitated, his eyes wide and scared, he takes heaving breathes, trying to clear his mind. He grasps Ponyboys cold shoulder, pulling him out of the water and onto the ground. Ponyboy falls with a sickening _thump!_ The sound that could only be the sound of a dead body as it hits the floor.

Ponyboy's head rolls to the side, his hair slick against his head and his face a chalky white. Droplets of water slide down his face bleeding out of his eyes like teardrops. The moonlight strikes him at an odd angle, showering him in an unearthly light.

And suddenly Johnny cant breath, he tries to suck in a breath his lungs won't accept and everything is spinning… He shakes his head, letting out a trembling breath. He crawls overs to Ponyboy and shakes him.

"Ponyboy… wake up…" He rasped. But there was nothing, only silence. Silence that covers the area like a blanket and makes Johnny want to curl up and die but he knows he can't do that because he has to wake up Ponyboy.

He shook pony with more urgency. "Come on Ponyboy…" He pleaded "We gotta get you home… Your brothers are probably worried…"

The absence of sound is getting to him, and he needs to hear something else besides his own voice. His trembling accelerates and he grips Ponyboy with both hands, his panic at its peak.

"Pony… Pony… Pony… He whispers, his voice escalating, repeating pony's name in his head like a mantra, until the words are too jumbled together to tell apart. And soon he is shouting, not screaming, because Johnny screams for no one, but yelling with such pain and anguish to the heavens to just bring his friend back.

"No! No… please!" he whimpers, his mind racing and his heart fluttering. And he cries broken sobs that fill the air with the distress and sorrow that only a faithful friend could make.

Something inside him snaps, Johnny heaves himself to his feet, tottering unsteadily. His eyes flit nervously to the side and his breath catches in his throat. He takes a few wobbly steps, but then he is running, eager to escape the overpowering sense of dread heavy in the air where Pony died.

His mind is occupied with thoughts of Ponyboy, and he lets his feet lead him, almost unconsciously, to the place he could go for comfort. Pony boy's brothers, he thought. They have the right to know.

The right to know that their youngest brother was dead dead dead and all Johnny did was watch.

The right to know that Ponyboy died fighting, and Johnny did nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Gosh sorry this took longer than it should… My motivation died with Pony in the fountain.**

* * *

><p>Darry hummed to himself in frustration after reading the same line for the fourth time. He looked up from his newspaper to rest his eyes, talking in the still of the house as it breathed. He studied the walls for the umpteenth time, memorizing every nick and crack there was.<p>

He glanced at Soda sleeping on the couch, his mouth slack and his fingers twitching ever so often. His blonde hair was ruffled from his turning on the couch and his shirt was rolled up above the elbows. One arm hung off the couch carelessly and his feet were propped up against the small table near the lamp…

Darry blinked sleep from his eyes, stifling a yawn. He gazed at the clock wondering how long he would wait for his youngest brother. Soda had told him to give him time to cool off, and that he should not be surprised if Ponyboy should not return by the time the dawn came.

Darry, determined on staying up for Pony's return, set on apologizing even though he knew that Pony would not listen. He began drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair, feeling the cheap fabric against his fingers.

He hated the silence of the house. He hated how he could now hear the leaking faucet in the bathroom sink. He hated the waiting. He hated not being able to do anything.

Yes, this was the hardest part.

He hated how he could now hear Soda's light snores, and he was considering waking Soda up to be miserable with him. He decided against it in the end, and put his newspaper down.

He sighed softly, concluding that he should try to follow Soda's lead so he could get up easier for work tomorrow. But who was he kidding? If Ponyboy didn't get home soon nothing would be easy anymore.

Heck, if Ponyboy didn't get home soon he doubted that he would go to work at all. But no… that wouldn't work either… he needed to work; the bills don't stop piling up just because one family member goes missing. He could rest his eyes for a moment. There was no harm in that right?

And so Darry surrendered the battle for awareness and allowed rest to swamp his mind and steal him from the waking world.

* * *

><p>Johnny flew up the porch steps, and almost slammed into the door when his foot caught on the last step. He panted heavily, heaving in breaths as the adrenaline that he had used to carry himself he wore off. He had fueled his legs with shock and now it was wearing off. He remembered Pony's colorless, lifeless face, his limp body already stiff, the light in his eyes already dead.<p>

Johnny shook the thoughts from his head. No. He wouldn't-couldn't-shouldn't think of that now. There was something else he had to do first. He groped the doorknob with sweaty hands, misgivings flooding his mind and his concentration wavering.

He had to do this. He had to summon all his courage… he had to be braver than he ever had before… But his mind was stalling, his arm refused to move. He saw Pony's empty eyes, gazing at something only he could see…

The shaking returned tenfold, until Johnny was leaning on the door. He knew what he had to do. Why couldn't he move? Suddenly the door was ripped from his grasp with such force that it was a wonder that it didn't rip of the hinges. Johnny stumbled forward as the door fell from his side.

He caught himself on the doorway and peered up to meet a somewhat seething but also guilty Darry. The emotions in his eyes clear so quickly that Johnny wondered if he had imagined them. Darry's emotions parted to a look of confusion as he glared at Johnny.

He couldn't meet Darry's eyes. How could he, bearing the news that he did? Darry's scowl twitched and he left the doorway wordlessly beckoning for Johnny to follow.

Johnny staggered in after him, his eyes wide and so brutally awake in the early morning. He watched Darry with fearful eyes as he gently woke up his brother.

"…Johnny…? What're you doing here…? Soda mumbled drowsily, rubbing his eye with the palm of his hand.

The boy in question swallowed his nervousness, glowering down at the floor as he tried to find the right words. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. The lump in his throat forbid it. How could he say it?

How could he look them in the eyes and tell them probably the worst thing they'd ever hear? How could he tell them that the most beloved member of their family was gone forever?

He remembered what Pony had told him when they had decided to "run away". He had said that Darry had hit him. How would Darry feel knowing that the last thing he said to his kid brother was the last thing he would ever get to say?

"Well?" Darry spat, clearly in a bad mood. His eyes pierced holes into Johnny's head as the boy trembled. Johnny could feel his hard eyes burning a hole in his head. He knew that Darry didn't mean to come off strong but… he did seem grumpy. Johnny could only imagine how he would react…

Yes, this was the hardest part.

He took a quavering breath, and choked the words out, feeling his throat tighten after each one. "Pony is dead…" he whimpered, hiding behind his bangs.

A stony silence was set in place. Johnny fidgeted with unease, awaiting their response. What could they say to that?

Darry staggered back as if struck, his features quickly morphing into one of pure horror and dread. He furrowed his brow as it deep in thought but then he shook his head as if trying to dismiss the idea.

Soda's eyes widened slightly, but other than that there appeared to be no other noticeable change. He kept staring at Johnny as if this was all one horrible sick joke and he was waiting for the punch line. When none came, he blinked, as if mulling over the possibilities.

It seemed that he was chewing the idea, tasting it before considering that maybe; just maybe, his brother might actually be gone. He kept his eyes trained on Johnny all the while, as if trying to read him, anticipating the time where he would crack a smile and tell them "Just kidding!" But none came.

The two brothers gave all of their attention to Johnny. He shuffled, unused to all the attention. He knew what they were asking, silently begging him to give them the details, tell them where and when and who and how and why. Johnny tried to clear his throat, to just push out the words but the lump in his throat was growing and making it harder to breath.

"We…" He began but stopped. Why did it have to be Ponyboy? Ponyboy would never hurt anybody. Ponyboy didn't deserve it. Now he was kicking himself. Why didn't he do something? Why didn't he save Ponyboy? Why?

He blinked as his world tipped, catching himself before he fell. He tried to blink away the headache that was building up behind his eyes. All of a sudden every color in the room was ten times too bright and it hurt his eyes. He channeled his attention back to the devastated boys before him. They deserve to be told… they need to know… Johnny had to tell them…

The words dried up on his tongue, cowering at the thought of having to bare bad news. Why couldn't he do this? Why couldn't he step up and tell them? What was wrong with him?

He looked into their eyes again, trying to buy time to work up the courage he needed. Darry's eyes were dark, silently fuming; he waited silently, emotions flickering in his eyes, ones only he would know. Soda's emotions were more open, his mocha eyes were pleading, and so very lonely.

He felt someone shaking him, and he wished they'd stop. Darry had bent down and had him by the shoulders. His head snapped up to meet Darry's murky blue-green orbs, he could see his own reflected in them, petrified and timid, yet empty like a void.

Darry's tone was low and dangerous, leaving no room for argument. "What. Happened."

It wasn't a question, it was a demand. Asked for the truth, a very simple task for Johnny. Darry held Johnny's shoulders in a vice-like grip, forcing Johnny to look at him. He took a shallow breath, letting it out painfully.

"We were at the park." He whispered, dreading every moment that passed. "Some Soc's came around and… and they were drunk."

His voice grew smaller with each word he said. He gazed into Darry's shirt, looking but not really seeing. He had taken himself back to another time, he felt like he was standing outside his body, watching the horrific scene through a pair of different eyes. He saw them seize Ponyboy, take him down fighting, his actions abruptly cut off as he faded from life.

He squeezed his eyes shut, opening them into slits as he continued. "T-they said they were gonna teach Pony a lesson for picking up their girls after the movie the other day…"

He didn't know if Pony told his brothers about Cherry and Marcia but he wasn't going to get into that now. Two-bit could inform them… He kept his eyes downcast, not wanting to look into their austere eyes, not wanting any of this…

"They… got me… I couldn't help him, god I tried…" He breathed. Inside he was in turmoil, but he had to put up a tough façade. They'd believe it. They've always had in the past.

He was almost done. All he had to do was tell them how his harrowing story ended. All he had to do was tell them the rest and leave… and go far far away… and maybe never come back. He knew it was impossible for someone like him, but it never hurt to dream.

Oh, how he wished it were all some story gone wrong, a tale that took the wrong twist. A page in his journal that he could tear out and crumple into a ball, throw it in the corner and never touch it again. But there was no starting over. Never again.

"They got him…D-drowned him in the fountain… B-by the time I got to him…it was… too late." He murmured, shame washing over him.

Why didn't he do something? How could he stand by and watch his closest friend get killed by those merciless Socs? It was too soon for them to be thinking of death. Death was something they would worry about when they were old and wrinkled and long gone from this god-forsaken neighborhood.

He was filled with an overwhelming bitterness, sour and more powerful than any hate he's ever tasted. They would pay for this…

He looked up, his eyes sweeping the room, taking in all the sorrow that he had brought them. Soda had not moved from his spot on the couch, His was gazing up at Johnny helplessly, like he was still looking for a sign that this wasn't really happening.

His faced was bleached white and tears were steadily streaming down his face. He looked like he was in shock, like his world was crumbling down around him and all he had worked so hard for was turning to dust before his eyes. He was sitting forward a bit, his legs locked in a tense position, his shoulders wound tight.

He shifted his gaze to the eldest brother of the family; he had released his grip on Johnny in the middle of his story, though Johnny didn't hear him hit the floor. He had fallen back off his heels and onto his backside. His legs were spread out before him, bent sharply at the knees.

Darry had adopted a gaunt look to himself, making his face look ashen and stunned. His eyes were half lidded and he glared in the direction of Johnny's shoe. A ghost of a tear hovered on Darry's eyelids, threatening to tear down his stoic mask and let loose all the pent up sorrow.

Stiffly, he moved, shifting his weight to one hand while the other was outstretched before his face. He was staring at it with a dazed look in his eyes, as if he couldn't believe that it was attached to his wrist.

Johnny could recall Pony telling him that Darry had hit him before he ran out. It seemed like ages ago. He was probably remembering the last thing he had said to Ponyboy. Johnny swallowed. He wished that he had some last words to give them, something to ease their pain and give them some hope that life would go on.

But there was nothing he could do. There was nothing he could say to make it any easier. They had just had a rude awakening and needed a minute to recover. Johnny understood, he would give them all the time they needed, answer any questions they should ask.

Johnny glanced up as the couch creaked; Soda lethargically pulled himself over to his brother, dragging himself across the floor, moving on frozen legs. He sank to his knees, burying his face in Darry's shoulder and murmured something that Johnny could not here. Darry absent mindedly rubbed Soda's shoulder, albeit awkwardly.

Johnny just stood there, wanting to give them their space but not wanting to leave. Where would he go? Home? There was no way he was going home. He wasn't ready. He didn't know if he would ever be ready.

Johnny was suddenly met with the image of Soda, cradling his dead brother in his arms, murmuring apologies into his ears like he thought Ponyboy could hear them. He thought of Darry, shoulders hunched over the one he cared the most for, his head bowed in grief, silently shaking, sobs racking his body.

He hadn't realized that he had closed his eyes until he opened them, breaking the scene his mind has created. Soda and Darry were looking at him, he realized. Did they say something? Did he miss something? He looked into their tearstained faces, Darry examining him from the crook between Soda's shoulder and neck. Wearing his tears with no shame.

They were expecting something, he realized with a jolt. What did they want? He then took heed of Soda's open arms and he understood. He sat down gradually, as if testing the ground. He leaned forward, and Soda captured him in his strong arms, joining the three of them together.

He forced himself to relax as he reflectively stiffened. He focused on his breathing, not used to being so close to another person. He tried not to think about what was going to happen.

As they sat, connected by their grief, as they mourned, crying tears of the same, Johnny came to a realization. Things would get better, they had to. There would be recovery, it would be slow and a long time from now, but it would come. And soon it would heal, but Ponyboy would never fade.

Then he wondered, what was the hardest part?

Was it watching Ponyboy drift from life in the numbing fountain? Was it pulling him out, seeing him dead and gone and faced with the cold, unbearable truth?

Was it the way home, abandoning Ponyboy and going to tell his brothers? Was it finding the words to tell the tale? Was it Darry's face as Johnny told him, or was it Soda as he stood frozen, hearing but not yet believing?

But maybe the hardest part was yet to come. Maybe it will be moving on and letting go. Maybe it will be telling the gang, seeing their broken spirits try to mend. Maybe it would be surviving through the grief. Or maybe it would be just plain living.

Pony was his buddy, and that fact wouldn't ever change. They were friends in life, and death wouldn't take that away from them.

Sure, it was hard, but after the hardest part, easier ones are sure to follow.

He had to believe that.


End file.
